


Stuck on the Idea of You

by Mixchey



Series: Krii7y [1]
Category: BBS - Fandom, gbg
Genre: Fluff and Humor, It's just a cute fic, M/M, One can't show his emotions and the other is an emotional wreck, Platonic Romance, Playful insults and annoying dogs, Skype calls, krii7y - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 15:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16684213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixchey/pseuds/Mixchey
Summary: Smii7y is flying to Washington for Pax West and John doesn't know how to feel about it.





	Stuck on the Idea of You

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: All characters, places, events, and dialogue are used in a fictitious manner. In no way do we portray these personas as perfect replicas of any real person mentioned. This is a work of fiction that was created for entertainment purposes, do NOT take it literally.

“I’m going to Pax West this year,” Jaren said casually when John answered the Skype call.

It was Saturday afternoon and John stayed up way too late last night rewatching Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and planned on sleeping for the entire day. But sadly, that wasn’t the case because he was cursed by the universe for being best friends with a certain Canadian youtuber.

John choked on his water and placed the bottle onto the desk, then coughed into his elbow; he wheezed as tears formed at the corners of his eyes and his lungs burned with every choking breath. A few water droplets spilled onto his clothes and the desk in the process, but he would deal with later once his lungs weren’t drowning in off-branded water.

Once his breathing finally evened out, John inhaled and exhaled slowly then looked back at his computer monitor and noticed After Effects closed during his coughing fit. He silently cursed himself and opened Skype and was met with Jaren’s bored expression, his cheek resting in his hand and a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Sorry… what did you say?” John said while wiping away any excess water on his mouth and chin.

“Are you deaf?” Jaren asked and rolled his eyes, “I said, ‘I’m going to Pax West this year.’ ”

John grinned and crossed his arms on the table. “No need to tell me what I already know. And also, I know you’re trying not to laugh because you always find my pain entertaining.”

Jaren scoffed and placed a hand over his heart in bewilderment, “I can’t believe you would accuse me of such a thing! I would never laugh at an injured person – especially not my best friend.”

John raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, it was fucking hilarious.” Jaren giggled into his hand. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I knew it, you malicious bastard.”

Jaren smiled and tapped his fingers against the desk, patiently waiting for John’s expected outburst. If there is one thing he knew about the American, it’s that he can be overprotective about anything and everything regarding Jaren’s privacy, which can be insufferable at times.

“Anyways, are you sure?” John asked and picked at his nails, the red polish chipping under contact.

Here he goes, Jaren thought.

“Don’t feel forced to go just because everyone else is. I want to know that you’re comfortable with showing your face at a convention for the first time.” John finished and glanced at the camera with worried eyes.

Jaren sighed and clasped his hands together and stared at his monitor screen. His eyes meet John’s nervous and concern ones. His heart stuttered in his chest and his cheeks flushed a light crimson.

Jaren softened his gaze and pursed his lips.

“Yes, I am sure, John. Please stop babying me, alright?”

John frowned and glared at the screen in disbelief then lowered his head.

“I’m just trying to help …” He mumbled.

“I know, John, and I appreciate that – I really do –, but I am twenty-one, for God’s sake. So please tone it down a bit.” Jaren said quietly and twiddled his thumbs.

“I –”

“Please, John? For me?” Jaren begged.

John hesitated and had an internal conflict with himself before nodding. He ran a hand through his blond hair, which desperately needed a trim, and rested his head on his folded his arms. Jaren smiled softly and leaned forward in his office chair, eyes brightening under the artificial lights.

“Hey! Did I tell you what my neighbors did last night?”

“Which ones? The Bakers or the Hendersons?”

“Take a guess.”

“The Hendersons?”

Jaren stood up from his chair and slammed his hands down onto the table, “YES! YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT THEY DID?”

“Did they leave their dogs outside again?” John guessed.

“YES! The bastards had the audacity to leave both of their dogs outside. And you want to know what their dogs did?” Jaren continued.

“They barked the entire night?” John asked.

“THEY BARKED THE ENTIRE NIGHT! I didn’t go to bed until four am! I swear I will call animal control one of these days.” Jaren scoffed as he settled back into his chair and crossed his arms. Then he leaned back in his office chair and kicked his feet up on the desk.

“Don’t lean that far back, dude, or else you’re gonna fall,” John warned and eyed the boy, waiting for him to hurt himself. The thing is whenever Jaren was challenged or told not to do something, he would drop everything to prove that person wrong.

Jaren raised an eyebrow at the warning and leaned forward.

“Bet!”

“Bet.” John challenged with stern eyes. “I predict that your dumbass is going to fall backward and spill your coffee onto your desk and carpet.”

Jaren smirked and pushed his feet off his desk and leaned as far back as possible, chair balancing on its hind wheels. He lifted his head into the air and put his hands behind his head, then laughed at his victory. John groaned and opened a new browser window to log into Twitter, ignoring Jaren’s boasting and waiting for the chair to topple over.

“Aw, what’s wrong, John?” Jaren cooed, “Are you mad that I proved you wrong? Huh? You know I can never be defeated –”

Jaren’s chair squeaked and the wheels slipped from underneath him. He yelped and flailed his arms as he tumbled to the floor with a loud crash. His feet kicked the desk and knocked over his cold cup of coffee, which, as John expected, spilled onto the table and the beige carpet.

Jaren looked down at the chair then the ceiling. He covered his face with his hands and groaned. John sat and chuckled at the scene before him.

“Yup,” John said in between giggles, “you sure proved me wrong, Jaren.”

“Shut up!” Jaren hissed as he picked up his chair and placed it in front of the desk, then settled back into his previous spot.

\---

The following day, John was editing some footage from an earlier session when Jaren’s Skype icon popped onto the screen. The deafening ringtone blasted through his headphones and he flinched and clutched his chest at the abrupt sound. He glared at the milk bag icon innocently smiling at him with cheerful eyes and shuddered.

John accepted the call.

He has constantly reminded Jaren to change the icon, but the boy always laughed it off and has continued to ignore John’s constant pleas and demands and threats.

“Hey, John –”

“What do you want?” John growled while shooting daggers at the boy.

Jaren frowned when his image loaded onto the computer screen and abruptly stopped; his curly brown hair was tousled and his dark circles contrasted against his fair skin. He adjusted his black hoodie (which had the word “damb” sewed on the front) and tied the drawstrings into a neat bow with his stubby fingers, then dropped his hands. He glanced back at John.

Jeez, how did this guy go out into public like this? John thought while waiting for a response from the Canadian who averted his eyes and twiddled his fingers.

Then he snapped his head up and glared at the screen.

“Alright, who pissed in your cornflakes this morning? Christ, man, no need to be so rude.” Jaren said while leaning back in his office chair and crossing his arms.

“You know what you did.”

Jaren raised an eyebrow and waited for his friend to elaborate, but John remained silent. Seconds passed as the two stared at each other, the occasional bark from Octavia and squeak of John’s ceiling fan broke the tense atmosphere.

Jaren gave up and tossed his hands in the air.

“John! For fuck’s sake, don’t leave me in the dark like this.”

“Your. Icon.”

“Huh?”

Jaren tilted his head to the side and helplessly shrugged his shoulders. John, in response, narrowed his eyes and groaned into his hands, which sounded like a dying goat.

“Are you this fucking stupid or are you just messing with me?”

“I – what?” Jaren began while trying to process the question, “what are you talking about, John? My icon? What does this have to do with anything – oh.”

Realization settled in his brown eyes as Jaren tilted his head back and cackled. John massaged his temples and hid a small smile behind his hands while Jaren’s body shook with uncontrollable laughter. After a few minutes, he finally settled down and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“S-Sorry! I-I just can’t believe that you still hate my icon!”

John’s eye twitched and he clenched his jaw.

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!”

“Yes, it is!”

John hissed and crossed his arms.

“I. Hate. You.”

“Hate you too.”

Jaren grinned and rested his head in his hands. John playfully rolled his eyes and looked down at his clasped hands.

“Anyways, guess what?”

“What?”

“I am officially going to Pax West with you!” Jaren beamed.

“Oh… great!” John smiled hesitantly and tapped his fingers against the desk in a rhythmical pattern. Jaren frowned at the unenthusiastic response and threw his head back and groaned.

“John, are you still nervous about this? What did I say about you babying me?”

“Yes I know, but –” John mumbled and focused on toying with a ring on his finger.

“John, please look at me.”

John did as he was told and looked at his monitor and immediately regretted it. Jaren was smiling softly and his eyes were reassuring.

Damn it.

John sighed and forced a smile but Jaren saw through his facade.

“Ugh, John.” Jaren facepalmed and pushed away from the desk. Blue eyes followed Jaren’s retreating figure as he stood up from his chair and walked over to his bed. John scrunched his eyebrows in contemplation, wondering what the boy was doing.

Jaren walked over to his bed and started searching through the sheets.

Although he was twenty-one, his triple colored bedding looked like it came straight out of a kids movie with the red, yellow, and blue striped duvet decorating the plain wooden bed frame. The covers were wrinkled and tossed aside and the pillows threatened to fall off the side of the bed any second.

An empty water bottle creaked from under the covers and Jaren threw it to the side and continued looking for his cell phone. John chuckled and rested his chin in his hand, watching the scene unfold with intrigued eyes.

Jaren shuffled around the bed and lifted his mattress to see if his phone was there.

It wasn’t.

Jaren groaned and noticed a white case resting by his feet. He bent down and picked up the object and turned it around – it was his phone.

John watched as an excited Jaren squealed in delight and happily strolled over to his computer and settled down in his office chair. He scooted forward and held up his phone; the screen was cracked at the edges and, if John wasn’t mistaken, the white case was scuffed and covered in pen marks.

“Okay, I hope that didn’t take too long –” Jaren began.

“It did.”

“Shut up, idiot. Anyways! Alright, John, this is what I’m gonna do: I am going to book a flight to Washington on February 27th –”

“- Next Wednesday?”

“Yes, Mr. Watson, good observation.” Jaren winked and John gave him the finger.

Jaren chuckled and continued explaining his plan, “As I was saying, I will book a flight to Washington on February 27th, this Wednesday, and we can hang out for an entire week and go to Pax West together.”

John suddenly froze and his eyes widened and his heart raced. He felt lightheaded at the idea and took a deep breath.

Jaren frowned and leaned forward in his chair, squinting at the screen.

“… John? Are you alright?”

“Y-Yup! Totally alright. A-okay!” John stuttered and swallowed a lump in his throat. His hands started to tremble and sweat and his stomach knotted up into a tight ball.

“… John, do you not want to see me?” Jaren asked with downcasted eyes, his expression dulling at the thought, “Is that why you’re so hesitant? Because if it is, I can cancel this whole thing if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“No! No, it’s not a problem! I want to see you, Jaren! You’re my best friend and I want to see you – I truly do! But that’s the problem…” John mumbled and ran his hands through his untamable hair. He needed to a take a shower later and brush his tangled hair.

“Oh, well then what’s the problem? We’re best friends like you said, so why are you so nervous about -”

John watched as the Canadian’s eyes widened in surprise and his mouth curved into a smile. John’s face reddened in embarrassment as his friend began teasing him.

“So you’re nervous about seeing me for the first time, huh? John, there’s no need to be so tense around me, alright? It’s just me after all.” Jaren smiled broadly and lifted his chin.

John groaned and buried his face in his arms. The burnet’s taunts were unbearable and John wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole or hit by a car. Preferably the latter.

Jaren giggled and hid a smile behind his hand.

“John, please take a deep breath and calm down. Everything will be fine and I promise I won’t embarrass you too much when I arrive.” Jaren finished and leaned back in his chair.

John uncovered his face, which no longer represented a cherry red tomato, and stuck out his tongue. Jaren playfully narrowed his eyes and stood up from his office chair once more.

“Alright, you cocky bastard, I’ll send you the details later then. I have to eat dinner and finish a few things, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Jaren waved at the camera and ended the call.

John frowned as he stared at Jaren’s Skype icon, then hit his head against the desk and covered his head with his arms. He groaned and mentally cursed himself for being such an idiot. Then realization slapped him in the face.

He was going to see Jaren in three days.

Oh, God.

\---

Despite John’s protests, the next few days went by in a flash and he was left panicking about the whole ordeal at approximately 11:42 pm.

It was Tuesday night and he should really be sleeping right now because sometime tomorrow he was going to see his best friend for the first time ever. Why was he awake again? And a part of him should be excited that he is seeing Jaren. In fact, he should be so excited that anticipation should be eating away at his bloodshot eyes…

But it didn’t.

Instead, he was blankly staring at his unedited footage in After Effects, waiting for it to magically edit itself. John groaned and hit his fist against the desk, almost knocking over his bottled water.

He cautiously placed the bottle onto the floor and turned back to the screen. The digital clock read 12:07 am and John sighed. He tiredly rubbed his eyes with his fist and yawned.

Maybe he should go to bed early for once like a normal human being.

John exited the program and turned off his computer, then got up from his chair and stretched his arms above his head. He turned his head to the side and cracked his neck.

Satisfied with the results, John picked up his phone off the desk and sluggishly walked to the door. He turned off the lights and closed the door, then walked across the hallway to his own room.

He opened the door and turned on his ceiling fan, then stumbled over to his bed and face planted into the soft, white sheets. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes, sleep taking over instantly. His breathing started settling out and a small smile formed on his face.

Everything was tranquil.

That was until his phone dinged, alerting John that a new message had been received. He regrettably opened his eyes and reached around for his phone that got buried in the duvet and sheets. His fingers brushed against cold metal and he pulled the phone from under his pillowcase, then turned the phone on.

From Smitty:

I just got to the airport and I will let you know when my flight lands.

John’s eyes widened and he sat up in his bed, clutching the phone in his hands and staring down at the message. Jaren was at the airport. Right now. And is going to be at his house in a couple of hours.

He dropped his phone on the bed and buried his face in his hands, rubbing his exhausted face and contemplating everything. John grabbed a pillow from behind him and muffled a scream into the fabric, then dropped the pillow behind his head. He laid back down and settled into the comforter, then dozed off.

\---

Jaren held up his phone and looked at the address:

1728 Chardonnay Drive

He glanced out the window and watched as the rows of houses passed by in various shapes and sizes and colors. Some were huge, others small. Each house different from the last. Jaren shuffled in his seat as the worn leather dug into his jeans.

Almost there.

Jaren sighed and turned off his phone and placed the ancient device in his jean pocket, averting his attention to the cab driver who was humming along to whatever song was playing on the radio.

The man looked like he was in his early twenties with no wrinkles or blemishes in a sight. He was tapping his finger against the steering wheel and nodding his head along to the chorus, which sounded as generic as every American pop song ever invented.

Jaren continued examining the man and noticed that he face was wearing a mouth mask with a white “X” on the front, a simple yellow cotton t-shirt, and black sweats. His messy dark brown waves were hidden underneath a white beanie and his eyes were focused on the road in front of him.

Jaren raised an eyebrow and leaned his head against the window, examining the city life from behind a glass barrier.

Seattle is not what he expected to say the least. There weren’t criminals and dead bodies on every street corner and there weren’t constant storms.

It was a normal city with normal people; Jaren watched as a mom walked her kids down the street, swinging their hands and laughing loudly while a mailman smiled and continued strolling down the street.

There were dozens of people in suits walking to their cars with coffee in hand and briefcase in the other. Thank the Lord for Youtube.

Even though it was 7:42 am the city was buzzing with life. Jaren was pulled out of his dream-like state when the cab jolted to a stop. He bit his lip to prevent himself from cursing at the innocent driver and glanced up.

“Sorry, for the abrupt stop,” The man began and looked down at his phone screen, “1728 Chardonnay Drive, correct?”

Jaren nodded and mumbled a “thank you” before turning his head to the side and looking out the window.

It was a fair-sized, single-story house that stretched across the yard. The exterior looked freshly-painted with the light blue contrasting against the yellowing lawn that, what Jaren assumed, hadn’t been cut in weeks. The brown roof shingles were littered with multicolored leaves and twigs of all shapes and sizes.

Overall, it was a minimalistic, yet traditional design. Jaren suspects it was built in the early eighties.

“Yeah, this is one of the older homes.”

Jaren looked back at the driver who was also examining the house with a small smile.

“Yeah, I figured because of the overall design and layout,” Jaren said while reaching down and picking up his grey backpack resting by his feet. He placed the bag onto his lap and unzipped the biggest pocket to pull out his wallet.

“Mhm. So your total is $15.92,” the man said and stared out the window.

Jaren pulled out twenty dollars and handed it to the driver.

After his plane landed, Jaren had to go through the painful process of changing Canadian currency to American currency and got into a fight with the ATM machine. He would’ve broken it if an employee had not come over and assisted him while he watched with flushed cheeks.

“Thank you. Do you need any help with your bags?” The man asked while getting out of the car and opening the trunk

“Um,” Jaren began and picked up his backpack and stepped out of the car, “I think I can manage, but thank you…” Jaren squinted at the man’s shirt to look for some sort of name tag.

“Jay.”

“Oh sorry, I’m not good at remembering names. Thank you, Jay, and have a good one.”

The driver nodded in understanding and smiled, then stepped back into the car. Jaren walked over to the trunk and grabbed the handle of his suitcase and heaved it out with a huff then placed it onto the curb. He closed the trunk and waved goodbye to Jay. He stepped onto the curb and watched as the car started again and drove down the street.

\---

John woke up to the sound of tires screeching to a stop and groaned at the deafening sound. He covered his head with a pillow and desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but his mind was screaming at him to get up and do something, so he obeyed and sat up.

The duvet fell from his shoulders and exposed him to the biting cold that always accompanies him every morning. Seattle weather can be a pain in the ass sometimes, John thought and rubbed his eyes. He looked around his messy room and his eyes adjusted to the morning light and dust seeping through the window. He slowly dragged his feet of the bed and slumped down, glaring at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock.

7:53 am.

John sighed and stretched his arms above his head and yawned once more. He was never a morning person and never will be. After contemplating if getting out of bed today was worth it, he pushed himself off the bed and stumbled to the floor when the sheets caught his feet. He face-planted into the soft carpet and groaned.

After a solid minute of whining and moaning, John lifted his head off the carpet.

“I hate everything.” He mumbled to himself and stood up. Now he was awake, grumpy, and wanted some coffee. John walked over to his window and opened the blinds, staring out at the neighborhood and the city resting on the horizon.

Just another boring day in Seattle.

The sun was rising against a shifting sky of mellow blues and pinks with the occasional cloud drifting by. All of the shadows that hid in the darkness of night faded away as the sun continued to shine, its rays stretching across the endless sky. John hissed at the harsh light and raised his hand to block the blinding rays then looked down at the street.

He noticed that all of his neighbors were either walking their kids to school or getting in their cars to drive to work.

John noticed a taxi cab with sitting in front of his house and a man stepping out of the car. John squinted and leaned forward, focusing on the figure.

Wait a minute, what day is it today?

John’s eyes widened in realization and he bolted out of his room, almost tripping over his phone that rested on the floor.

“Oh shit!” He yelled while looking around for his shoes.

John ran into the living room and his foot knocked into the corner of his dining room table. He bit back a groan and cursed. He didn’t have time for this. He saw his house slippers resting on the edge of his grey couch and he quickly grabbed them and put them on.

His heart was going a mile a minute and he wasn’t fast enough. He needed to see Jaren. Now.

John slid across the wooden floor and stopped before he knocked into the wall, then opened the front door.

He looked around the yard and noticed Jaren mindlessly chatting with the driver as he unloaded his bags and placed them on the curb, somehow not seeing John standing in the doorway.

Is this guy blind?

Jaren waved goodbye to the cab driver and took out his phone, probably informing John that he arrived, and picked up his suitcase. John cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, catching the boy’s attention.

“Hey!”

Jaren flinched and looked around for the source of the noise; the neighborhood was quiet and not a single person was outside. All of the garages were closed and the faint sound of car horns blaring could be heard in the distance.

Jaren frowned and turned his attention towards the house. His eyes widened and John bit back a smile as the shock registered on his face. John pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Get off my lawn, you fucking Canadian!”

“I – John?” Jaren’s voice died in his throat as he dropped his bag onto the dry grass, which crunched under the weight, and hurriedly put his phone in his pocket. Jaren watched with eager eyes as John stepped out of the house in his striped pajama pants and blue slippers and walked across the yard.

His eyes brightened and a teasing smile formed on his chapped lips.

Jaren couldn’t wait any longer, he had to see John – to feel him. To know that he’s real and not a figment of his imagination. Jaren dashed across the lawn and stumbled over his feet and fell into John’s chest. He flinched and mentally thanked the American for his cat-like reflexes.

“Wow, that’s your first reaction to seeing me? I thought Canadians were supposed to be nice – Ah!”

John’s breath hitched and he opened his arms and caught the burnet and stumbled back because of the added weight.

Jaren clutched onto John’s t-shirt, familiarizing himself with the boy’s scent of fresh raspberry and mint.

He’s real, he’s here, he reminded himself as he tightly squeezed John’s sides, his heart fluttering as he pressed himself closer, becoming addicted to the warmth that shielded him from the biting cold.

John, not knowing what to do, rested his hands on the Canadian’s hips. He froze when he felt the younger male tremble and wrapped his arms around Jaren’s waist, pulling him further into his chest and resting his chin on top of the boy’s head.

“Hey, it’s alright,” John said calmly and gently stroked his hair.

Jaren sniffled and choked back a sob as he wrapped his arms around John’s neck, leaning up on his toes to bury his face in the crook of his neck.

A few moments of silence is all they needed, John reckoned as he rubbed Jaren’s back and stared off into the distance, waiting for the boy to calm down.

“I …”

“You don’t have to say anything,” John said softly and stared at the horizon.

Jaren tightened his arms, not wanting to let go, then reluctantly pulled away.

John looked down and frowned at the boy’s disheveled appearance; his face was splotchy and red, tears brewing at the corners of his eyes – he hated seeing him cry.

Despite his messy appearance, Jaren kept eye contact. Bloodshot, determined eyes meeting calm blue eyes.

“I-I know we joke around all the t-time,” Jaren paused and wiped his nose with his sleeve, “but I am serious when I say this: It is so good to finally meet you, John. I-I can’t explain how h-happy I am right now.” His lip quivered as rubbed his eyes raw with his sleeve.

John swallowed his spit and lowered his head, wavy blond hair falling into his eyes and his cheeks flushing. He did not want to cry in front of his best friend, damn it. He needed to be strong.

“Yeah, idiot… it’s good to see you too.”

The two tightly held onto each other in silence for a few more minutes, enjoying each other’s presence and breathing slowly. The world fading around them as they solely focused on each other. To Jaren, nothing else mattered at that moment.

And secretly, John felt the same way.

Finally, he pulled away and let his hands fell to his sides as the tranquil atmosphere faded along with it. Jaren unhooked his arms from behind John’s neck and twiddled his thumbs; his eyes averted to the cracked sidewalk beneath their feet, watching as a leaf flowed in the morning breeze.

“Are you okay now?”

Jaren nodded and looked up when he felt John move away. He watched as the blond walked over to the curb and pick up Jaren’s suitcase, then walked back to the front door. He looked over his shoulder and raised a bushy brow in expectation.

“Are you coming or do you plan on staying outside?”

Jaren scoffed and rolled his chocolate brown eyes, then followed John’s retreating figure into the house.

Immediately engulfed by the warm atmosphere, he closed the dark wood door behind him and looked around the narrow hallway. There was an old metal shoe rack with two pairs of shoes on it, the shoelaces tangled and hanging off the sides. Jaren looked down at his shoes and noticed a doormat, so he wiped his feet and took off his shoes, neatly placing them on the rack.

John chuckled and crossed his arms.

“So now you wanted to be polite, huh? Well, too fucking late!”

“Fuck off, cunt, I’m the guest.”

John laughed and shrugged his shoulders. He looked over his shoulder and smirked, walking down the hallway and urging Jaren to follow.

“Okay, unofficial house tour! So my room is right here,” John knocked on the door to his left, “so don’t go in there or I’ll kill ya.”

Jaren rolled his eyes as John motioned to the door to his left

“And this is the office where I usually record and edit my videos for both channels.” He opened the door and Jaren peeked inside.

Despite Jaren’s expectations, the room was surprisingly organized.

Several game cases were neatly stacked in a cardboard box that was labeled “games and shit”. Posters and photographs were pinned against on the walls. And the carpet was mostly spotless with a few dirt stains here and there.

Jaren looked over at John’s desk and noticed his dual monitors were turned off and other cables and such were tucked underneath the desk. His office chair was pushed in with a fluffy blue blanket resting on the back of it. Jaren hummed and scanned the area one final time, taking it all in.

It just seemed so … John.

The colors. The arrangement. The video games. The labeled cardboard box. Everything fitted the blonde boy perfectly. John bumped shoulders with Jaren then walked into the kitchen. He looked at the room one last time and closed the door. He dragged his feet as he walked down the hall, following John’s retreating figure disappear into the kitchen.

“I’m surprised you didn’t slip and fall on your ass.” Jaren teased as he stepped into the living room and joint kitchen. He looked around the room and just like his office, John’s living room and kitchen were spotless.

A striped couch rested against one wall and faced the small television mounted on the wall. Several colorful blankets were folded up and placed on the coffee table in front of the couch, along with some coasters and the television remote.

Why are there so many blankets?

His eyes scanned the barren walls and squinted at the chipping paint and faint scuff marks and scratches. Along with this, one abstract painting hung on above a small cabinet on the wall to his left while two small windows framed the opposite wall.

As Jaren inspected the living room, John walked into the kitchen and looked around for the coffee pot. All the excitement was wearing him out. He opened and closed numerous wooden cabinets and drawers, but found nothing.

Where is the coffee pot?

He groaned as he walked past the sink and saw the glass coffee pot resting next to some dirty cups and coffee mugs. He exhaled and turned on the sink then quickly cleaned and dried the glass with a hand towel. He filled the pot with hot water and carefully walked over to the counter and placed it on the holder.

“Hey, Jaren?” John called over his shoulder and turned on the machine.

The Canadian, who was crouched in front of the small glass cabinet and browsing through John’s movie collection, glanced at the kitchen and hummed.

“Yeah?”

“How do you like your coffee?” John asked while looking through a box of decaf blends, then picking out a pod called “French Toast Roast” and popped it into the machine, waiting for the water to boil and mix in with the blend.

“Shouldn’t you know this by now?” Jaren smirked as he stood up and brushed off his jeans, then walked into the kitchen and sat on a barstool.

“No? Why should I know how you like your coffee?” John challenged while leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

“Because,” Jaren began and stood up from the chair, walking over to John, “it’s the easiest thing in the world!”

John raised an eyebrow.

“I like black coffee.”

John gasped and clutched his chest, walking away from the counter in disgust. Jaren laughed and pushed his shoulder and laughed at his bewilderment. Jaren walked over to the ready-made coffee and took it off the holder and looked around with a small frown.

“Here’s your precious mug filled with your precious black coffee, you heathen. You disgust me.” John sneered and placed a white mug onto the counter, then sat on the bar stool.

Jaren laughed at the blond’s frustration and poured himself a cup of coffee, smelling the pleasurable scent of freshly-brewed beans and leaned against the counter, taking a small sip.

“I hope you choke and die.”

“Thank you so much, John, I appreciate your kindness,” Jaren said and took another long sip. He sighed and fluttered his eyelashes as the delicious taste on his tongue flowed down into his stomach. Warmth pooling through his veins.

“Fucking Canadians,” John mumbled and walked over to the counter.

He grabbed another mug from the cabinet and poured some coffee in it, then walked over to his refrigerator (which was covered in pictures and post-it notes) and pulled out his favorite vanilla creamer. He sat down at the table and ignored Jaren’s disgusted scowl and poured some creamer in and mixing it with the coffee.

“And you say I’m disgusting,” Jaren says while pointing to the creamer in John’s hands.

“Yes, you are,” John said with a dull expression and put the creamer back into the fridge.

The two drank their coffee in silence, sometimes laughing at an occasional joke or comment. John downed the last of his coffee and placed it in the sink, then walked over to the couch and picked up the remote.

“Hey, don't pick a movie without me!” Jaren protested and placed his empty mug in the sink, then running out of the kitchen and hopping over the couch.

John rolled his eyes and settled on the couch and took his slippers off, resting his feet on the coffee table. Jaren followed suit and leaned against John and let his feet dangle off the couch armrest, then snatched the remote from John’s hands.

“You fucking -”

“In my defense, I only took the remote because you were going play some horror movie,” Jaren argued and turned on Netflix and scrolled through their shared account. John groaned and sank into the couch, glaring at the screen.

“I swear on my life, if you make me sit through one more episode of The 100, I am going to lose it.”

“I would never do such a thing!” Jaren said and grinned up at him.

Bright brown eyes meeting dull blue eyes. John looked back at the screen and, of course, Jaren picked The 100. He groaned and threw his head back in annoyance, while the Canadian shushed him and turned up the television, and covered his face with a pillow. Jaren, who ignored the action and watched the television with focused eyes.

John lowered the pillow and set it on his lap.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

John rolled his eyes and looked down at their hands resting side by side on the pillow.

He hesitated for a moment. then, in one quick motion, intertwined their fingers. A small smile forming on his lips.

Yeah, I guess I don’t.


End file.
